My parents live in the Twin Cities and I live in Chicago, so every year one of us guilts the other into making the 7-hour drive to see the other for Christmas. We don’t always alternate years so I don’t know for sure if it was 2004 or 2005 but I know it was one of those years as I remember clearly I was working at the State of Illinois Department of Redundancy Department Office and I couldn’t type for 2 weeks due to spraining my hand from ‘the punch’ and had to drive a forklift around for that time instead. (sorry for the boring history but I want to make sure I get my facts straight for you! 🙂 )

So what happened is I was most of the way their and was running late of course and was already just a little cranky when mom called my cell and told me to go directly to the restaurant they were dining at that evening instead of stopping to rest for five minutes at their place first. Naturally I had no idea where the restaurant was and mom started trying to give me directions while I was driving, expecting me to use my GPS to find it or something. I kind of lost my cool and asked her ‘why can’t we just eat at your place!?!’ and she said that if retirement meant that dad could lay around the house all day then she considered herself retired from cooking, at least during Christmas, and also the week before and after any other holiday for that matter, and what’s so hard about finding a restaurant for goodness sake?

I live in Wisconsin which is very near Minnesota, so I’ve been hearing stories about J.V. punchings for as long as I can remember. As you may know Mr. Ventura lives in MN and was also in charge of the whole state for a while. Naturally not everyone agrees with their elected officials representatives all the time, and they’re always getting clobbered by their constituents, but the stories about Ventura beat-downs always appealed to me more than the ones you’d hear about, say, Jim Sensenbrenner getting his chins rattled. Probably something to do with inter-state rivalry, or possibly the fact that Ventura used to be a professional wrestler as well as a Navy Seal which made the stories more interesting than hearing about another fat politician having his jelly set to jiggling.

But mainly it’s just a vain and pathetic attempt to jump on the bandwagon that started a little while ago when some dude went on tv and took JV-pummeling mainstream. I could smell fame for myself and possibly fortune. Never let an opportunity slip by unexploited, I say, whatever it may be. I am truly an equal-opportunity opportunist.

A combination of inclement weather, football frenzy, and legal weed have led to munchie shortages across both states. ‘High In The Sky’ reporter Chris Cudnoski reports

Fewer than 10 days to go before Super Bowl XXXXVIII, football fans nationwide are scrambling to stock up on their favorite munchies, while blaming legal marijuana smokers in CO and WA state for shortages.

With lines wrapping around the block in some areas, local residents are making do with rationed supplies of Doritos, pork rinds, and single 12-pack Mountain Dew purchases.

“It’s those damn hippies and their weed what caused the ruckus” said one resident, waiting patiently in his car, hoping to fill a cart full of Cheetos single-serve packages. “This is a line for munchies?” stated another man wearing a rasta cap “I just need tickets to the Phish concert.”

The bitcoin bubble was still all the rage with the World of Warcraft stoners. As per usual whenever new crypto currencies sweep the markets it leaves an opening for crypto currency criminal masterminds to make their move.

Not one to let a great opportunity pass him by, a merry prankster in Wisconsin devised a devilishly delightful plan that would not only break the system but land him with thousands, perhaps millions of bitcoins. A plan that could keep him in Doritos and video games for the next decade at least.

The crypto currency crowd, although not necessarily dumb, were just stoned enough to fall for it.

He had convinced them that it was just a stress test of the system and they all believed him. He set up his dark wallet, which for those who are not versed in bitcoin is like any other wallet except it is a darker shade of black than one can even imagine. He learned the lingo and worked his way into the crowd. He advertised his wallet number in all the right places.

The days passed as he prepared for his eventual clearance of the bitcoin market the World of Warcraft players prepared their bitcoin wallets for the stress test by posting endless amounts of bitcoin threads all over unsuspecting websites.

It all went down on 4:20 PM on December 31st 2013. It started with .01 coin at a time. It took a minute for the coins to start rolling in, but once it started it didn’t stop. Bitcoins everywhere. From one encrypted dark wallet to the next. It was a bitcoin fountain. Of course the system couldn’t handle it and its eventual crash occurred with a loud thud. However, it had lasted just long enough for the merry prankster in Wisconsin to cash out his small fortune.

And in a collective sigh heard round the world as the bitcoiners lost all their hard mined coins to the criminal mastermind in Wisconsin the crowd frantically began networking to see what kind of new bullshit fantasy based currency they could create so they had something to plaster all over unsuspecting forums.

Meanwhile the mastermind behind all of this had just made enough money to finance his new bicycle, set up a free Chris Cudnoski get out of jail fund, and spend the next year or so searching for Onion videos to post on the same forums the bitcoiners once infiltrated.

Oh yeah… God I hope that woman doesn’t speak in Italics all the time. That would just be annoying.

It has taken me so long to contribute this story because I had to wait until it actually didn’t happen before I submitted it. Now, since I live by the NAP and I don’t like pain, I did not actually punch Jesse Ventura, but as a female I have always wanted to do one of those splashing a dramatic throwing my drink in his face things you see in the movies often. I don’t know if it counts, but here goes…

I wasn’t completely sober when the story began. I had had just a couple, but a couple is more than enough for me. It was a damp, chilly autumn night, the type of night perfect for a hoodie and walk in the woods. I was minding my own business, I wasn’t hurting anyone, just casually strolling towards the woods. Then I heard the music. I have always had a bit of a problem with the music, I mean… It’s not like I can just not listen… I heard it, it was saying ‘Come on babe, follow me…. I’m the pied piper, trust in me…’

Really, what’s a girl to do in such a situation? I followed the music right into a smoky hole in the wall pub in some back alley before the trail I usually use to take to the woods. No one seemed to notice my entrance, which pleased me…. That meant no one would bother me as I got comfortable by the jukebox…. Or at least that’s what I thought….

As I frantically searched my pockets for quarters so I could play a song for whoever was kind enough to play Pied Piper for me (all songs are played for me in my head) I felt someone tap on my shoulder as he said,

“Excuse me, miss…”

I knew that voice. I would have known it anywhere. Jesse. Ventura. My arch nemesis.

“Can I help you?” I asked as I turned around slowly to face him.

“What do you know about Area 51?” He demanded.

I knew this day would come. I had information on Area 51 that he wanted and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, do you think you could possibly refrain from talking over the music, I’m trying to get lost here…” I replied.

“Fine, let’s sit down, get a drink and wait for this song to be over and then you can tell me. I need to know what you know” He said.

I reluctantly agreed…. Only to get him to be quiet for a few minutes.

We sat for a while and I pretended I was jamming with my friends. After a few songs went by he started in again…

“What is it?” He demanded. “What do you know?”

I sighed, and tried to think of a polite way to say “You can’t handle what I know.”

I started beating around the bush and he slammed his fist down on the table,

I was about ready to get up and walk out when Neil Diamond came on the jukebox and started singing Kentucky Woman, I don’t like it very much when people aren’t quiet for that one. I tried telling him that, I tried telling him to let me listen to Neil and then I would proceed but he kept yelling….imagine that…. Yelling over Neil Diamond….

It was more than I could handle. Only one person in the whole world would think their voice is more important than Neil Diamond and that would be Jesse Ventura, and I was sitting right across from him as he ruined Kentucky Woman for me. How in the world am I supposed to know if I really want to be a Kentucky Woman while Jesse Ventura is yelling at me over the song?

I grabbed my drink, lifted it up as though I was going to take a drink but splashed it right in his eyes instead. It was a movie perfect scene and as he yelled in confusion I grabbed my sweatshirt and ran out of there as quick as I could with my secret knowledge on Area 51 still a secret only I know. I ran to the woods as fast as I could and only looked back once to see him fall over as he chased after me.

I should have stayed home that night; instead I threw my drink in Jesse Ventura’s face, almost spilled my secret on Area 51, jammed to Pied Piper, and set Jesse straight on Neil Diamond.

I punched Jesse Ventura when I was 15. I was in a mall, wasting time feeling miserable with my friends, looking all the vanity and consumerism of the unlearned people, when Jesse Ventura, dressed as a mariachi, went out of a mexican restaurant where he was playing the guitarrón in the band, and looking at me he said that my mom was so fat that the last time she farted, she destroyed a five city and the tons of ash and dust raised 30,000 feet and expanded through the whole atmosphere, blocking Sun’s light and heat and causing a global ice age. Naturally, I took offense, and after approaching in style and calmly removing my silky glove I summoned all my manliness to punch him right in the chin, where I left engraved a fleur-de-lis mark from my ring and that is proof of what I’m saying. Pushing himself up with his hands and recovering verticality he said “fair enough”, and left.

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